First Drop by BrookM

‘Remember your training and you will make it to the ground alive!’

Sergeant Striker’s voice cut through the drone of the twin turbojet engines with ease, calling out to his squad packed in the hold of the Valkyrie. They were getting close to the objective now, as both door gunners cocked their swivel-mounted heavy bolter and cranked it out their side door. Over the scream of the engines of several dozen Valkyries a new sound could be heard, one of heavy thumping explosions and distant artillery fire. They were getting really close now, as more sounds of battle filtered in. It was for the most part a smooth and uneventful flight of one hour, the low level flight path preventing the enemy from an early detection and interception.

With a sudden unexpected lurch the Valkyrie climbed up, the door gunners inside bracing against their weapons and handholds with a curse. It wasn’t long now, the Valkyries would climb to the designated drop height and pop the rear hatch and deploy their cargo. The Valkyrie went level again and the rear hatch dropped open, giving the men of third squad a view of the hell they would jump into. Below a city that was in flames and ruin, explosions blossoming through the streets as the final artillery barrages landed their payloads. Vulture gunships swooped in, engaging surface targets at low level. And seen in glimpses circling over the Valkyries was the tactical fighter support, as Imperial Navy Thunderbolts and Lightning fighters protected the drop with a tight fighter screen. Sergeant Striker motioned his squad onto their feet, ordering them to check their kit one last time and put on their breathers. A green light flashed overhead and Striker let out a yell.

‘Out and at them! Let’s go my boys!’

Operation Thunder Eagle kicked off as five hundred Elysian drop troopers jumped from their transports into the combat zone below.

Drop trooper John Byron of the third squad felt himself being dragged along with his peers as they filed out off towards the ramp, leaping out into the hostile sky towards the lethal killing zone below. Now came the hard part, freefall was always the worst, you fell until the chute kicked in. Nothing you could do until then, except pray to the Emperor for a good chute activation. As he was trained Byron spread his arms and legs upon leaping out, levelling himself horizontally during his descent. He glanced at the altimeter affixed to his wrist, reading the display and silently counting down until he reached the right height.

’10… 9… 8…’ Tracers started whipping up all around him as the enemy opened fire, auto cannons and heavy bolters raking the air above the defenders. ‘7… 6… 5… 4…’ Several troopers around Byron were hit, their bodies making hard impacts with the incoming ordnance, tumbling wildly through the air like large ragdolls. ‘3… 2… 1!’ The chute kicked into life with a scream and a hard jolt went through Byron as his descent was slowed by the twin nozzles of the drop chute attached to his back. He was still going fast, but at least he wouldn’t slam into the ground below in a lethal fashion. Around him the others also slowed down, the dead and wounded in some cases doing the same, their limp bodies slowly going down.

Byron concentrated on the quickly approaching ground and landed hard, rolling upon impact to lessen the force and to prevent breaking his legs. He ended on all fours as he braced himself, waiting for the chute to sputter off only to instantly disconnect the bulky chute and reach for his weapon. As if on cue sergeant Striker called out over the squad vox net.

‘All, sound off and regroup on my location, I am near the defiled statue of the Saint.’

Byron looked round, noticing a large statue of an armoured giant with a scroll in one mailed fist and a sword raised to the heavens in the other. He ran towards the statue, sounding off. ‘Byron ready sir, en route now!’

One by one the squad members assembled, one dragged along by his peers, a snapped leg preventing him from walking. ‘Sorry sir, got hit by some ordnance in the leg on the way down, made landing a little harder than normal.’

‘You earned your mark Tyler, you made it to the ground in one piece.’ The wounded trooper gave the sergeant an almost teary nod, removing his own kit for the others to take. Sergeant Striker quickly distributed it amongst the squad, so that the wounded man only had his lasgun and a spare power pack. ‘Cooper, help him reach the planned TP and then find your way back to us. Byron take over vox communications and keep me informed on everything.’

Byron grabbed the vox caster and with some help from one of his squad mates attached it to his armour, patching the device in to his helmet. Several coded messages squawked into his ear, which he quickly decoded with the dial.

‘Sergeant Striker, reports from the front sir. Relief is underway. Enemy is holed up along phase line Exeter. Our company is scattered all over the place but lieutenant Fisher is calling all squads to converge on his position.’ Byron showed the sergeant his map. ‘Not far from here sir, a big traffic square that the enemy has barricaded. LT wants to bust that thing for the coming reinforcement columns.’

Striker examined the map for a moment, looking up at his squad. He handed the map back and stuck his hand up, making a chopping motion. ‘Drake, take point, Jansen take up the rear. Byron, stick close to me. We’re heading for phase line Exeter, just a little south of here, move out!’

The squad moved into formation, making their way through the rubble towards the heaviest fighting in their vicinity. As they drew closer the soft chatter of small arms could be heard. They were challenged by sentries but quickly identified and sent to the forward line, where the remainder of the platoon was hugging a solid barricade of rubble drawn across one part of the intersection. Enemy return fire was weak and sporadic, making Byron wonder why the hell they haven’t advanced yet.

Lieutenant Fisher noticed them approaching and quickly waved the squad over. ‘Charlie, I was beginning to fear that they got you at long last.’

Striker grinned as he dropped in next to the lieutenant. ‘You know me sir, it takes a lot to put me down and out. What’s the situation sir?’

The lieutenant jerked his head into the direction of the barricade across the street, the occasional crack of someone shooting at the Elysians resounding. Several dead troopers lay in the road, the result of a previous charge at the position.

‘Damn bastards are dug in, we tried charging them but they got a lot of firepower hidden around. Got a vox? Mine’s still in the street.’

Striker nodded, motioning to Byron. ‘Give me that set trooper!’ Byron ran over to lieutenant Fisher and handed him a plug for his helmet. ‘This is Fisher, I need me some air support, we’re pinned down near phase line Exeter. We’re making some headway but it’s costing us too much time and lives.’

A female voice cut through the static moments later, ‘copy that lieutenant Fisher, Valkyrie is on duty. Please pop smoke to confirm friendly lines.’

Sergeant Striker pulled a smoke grenade from his webbing and pulled the pin, dumping it near their position. Thick green smoke erupted from the canister in moments. The enemy opened fire, the heavy staccato of a heavy bolter rumbling into life, raking the barricade.

‘Smoke spotted, please confirm green smoke.’

Lieutenant Fisher coughed out the confirmation as the smoke wafted into their direction. ‘Copy that, green smoke. Give ‘em hell!’

‘We got you baby,’ the female pilot said. A moment later a lone Vulture screamed overhead, the wing-mounted autocannons blazing and rockets streaking from the pods into the enemy barricade and buildings directly around it. ‘Take care LT, we’re making another pass to catch any stragglers.’

‘Copy that Valkyrie.’ Striker turned to the others. ‘Lock, load and get ready. You heard the flygirl, once she hits that thing we move in. Byron, leave the vox here with the LT.’

The Vulture flew in again, slower this time as the nose-mounted heavy bolter opened up, slowly raking the barricade with a constant staccato of fire of its own. Small arms fire plinked off the armoured hull of the flyer, prompting the gunner to adjust his aim a little, the machine spirit quickly spotting where the fire came from. ‘Wish we had some Hellstrikes now Mary,’ he remarked to the pilot as he fired the remaining missiles into the top two floors of an enemy strongpoint, blowing away the heavy bolter hidden there.

‘Good to go LT, we’ll provide overwatch for your boys for as long as we got juice or slugs.’

‘Copy,’ lieutenant Fisher chopped his hand forward and the squads scrambled over their cover, storming the barricade.

Byron vaulted the pile of rubble he hid behind, joining the others as he pounded across the street. He noted a pair of brave medics had joined them in the dash, quickly checking the bodies left in the street by the previous assault.

Striker reached the barricade first, vaulting it in a single motion, dropping out of sight. Byron heard snap-snap sound of a lasgun, Striker had found the enemy. Others clambered over the barricade, adding their own double-tap fire to that of their sergeant. In the seconds it took Byron to reach the barricade and get on top of it the fight was already over. He noticed fellow trooper and friend Kyle Drake waving him over, a strange smile visible from below his visor.

‘Two! I got two John, what about you?’ Byron shrugged and showed Drake his lasgun, the charge still at full power. ‘Better luck next time, John.’

‘Form up you sump rats! We’re not done yet!’

Striker gathered his squad around him and motioned towards a pair of fairly intact buildings. ‘Block by block, you know the drill, now go!’

‘Looks clear.’

Striker cuffed Drake. ‘Bullshit, don’t you remember anything Drake?’ Striker turned to Byron with a nod and possibly a glare hidden under the visor.

‘Enemy is probably hiding, judging from the damage they could be on the ground floor and first floor, anything above seems unlikely due to damage from earlier bombing raids.’

Striker nodded his agreement and pulled a flash grenade from his webbing. Several others did likewise. They knew the drills, lob them, wait for them to explode and then try to cover the distance before the enemy could react.

‘Go!’

The squad burst from cover and immediately the enemy opened fire. The squad went to ground and ducked for cover. Byron shared a piece of wall with Cooper, the fastest man in the squad. And also one of the less sane as he pulled the demo charge free from his webbing. ‘John, cover me.’ Byron wanted to object but Cooper was already up. He saw Cooper go down, hit several times in the chest by accurate pot-shots. Byron cursed as he dove forward, pulling the demolition charge from Coopers dying hands. He scrambled forward, twisted the detonator cord and flung the large disc shaped explosive into the window, himself slamming hard against the wall as he sought cover. Seconds later a teeth jarring explosion rocked through the building followed by a massive cloud of dust and debris blown out every window on that level. Byron shook his head and coughed, slowly rising and looking in the window. If anybody survived that blast, a miracle!

‘Good one Byron!’ Striker commented as he moved up, vaulting through the window, clicking the built-in flashlight of his lasgun on. ‘Sweep and clear, by the twos, watch those corners!’

Drake stood next to Byron, helping him to his feet. ‘Nice one John, never figured you a hero.’

Byron grinned and shook his head, not sure why he did it. They both clambered through the window and engaged their flashlights, joining their squad in the search for survivors.

As the squads cleared out the surrounding buildings, slowly over the hours a solid perimeter was established. Soon a whole block was taken and declared a safe zone. It was during the clearing of a nearby block some hours later that a desperate call came through.

‘Not good! Losing power! Going down near the old tractor factory! Repeat going down near-’

The signal cut off abruptly and a plume of smoke and dust erupted into the sky not far from Byron and Drake’s position. A moment later the sound of something crashing followed.

‘Vulture down! Vulture down! Can anyone confirm who went down?’

Static filled the links for a moment.

‘Uh, I think it was Mary. Checking. One moment. Yeah, IFF transponder of Valkyrie has gone off-line, we lost her. I think I can see movement by the wreckage.’

A furious but short debate raged over the secured lines on what to do. Final call came in: too dangerous, crew was on their own.

Byron and Drake shared an uneasy look after the conclusion from the flight crews.

‘We can’t just let them die there, they could still be alive.’

‘Right, you with me Drake?’

‘Nowhere else to go, is there John?’

‘Good to have you on our team.’

Byron opened a line to Striker, who was overseeing operations for the squads. Byron gave him a quick outline of their plan and wanted his approval.

‘You have a green light but take no stupid risks. If it is too hairy I want you two out, understood?’

They complied and quickly headed for the plume of smoke.

‘What are they doing?’

Byron looked for a moment.

‘Salvage from the look of things. Only one sentry and one techie.’

Byron slung his lasgun over his shoulders and produced his knife, the blade freshly whetted by a fellow trooper.

‘Quick and hard Kyle. I’ll take the sentry, you get that packrat.’

Drake nodded, pulling his own knife free. Both slunk off, slowly moving into position. The sentry stood in the open, some yards away from the wreck, his back towards Byron. What was the fool thinking? He waited several seconds, hoping that Drake was in position as well. With a final sigh he pounced forward, quickly crossing the distance between him and the sentry, who had half turned at the sound of his advance. Byron slammed the sentry off his feet and kicked his weapon aside. And just as he was trained Byron slammed his blade into the chest of the man, giving it a savage twist before pulling it free again. The sentry gave a yelp and expired. Byron quickly looked up, seeing that Drake had dealt with the techie in a similar way. They gave one another a thumbs up.

‘Might as well fry this puppy and make sure nobody gets her.’

Byron pulled the phosphorous grenade from his webbing and pulled the pin, dumping the canister into the cockpit area. A few seconds later it ignited, searing heat quickly burning through the avionics and controls.

‘Okay John, one down, two to go. They can’t be far and I’ve got a feeling they might be held over there by that tracked vehicle.’

Byron spotted the light tracked vehicle, not much unlike the Centaur tractors he had the ground crews seen operating. Camo netting was spun over it, saving it from fiery retribution from above. Both men reached for the lasguns and quietly advanced on the building. As they drew closer they could hear shouting. Both the familiar Elysian tones and the local dialect. Byron crept into a hole while Drake slid forward, halting under a blown out window. After a moment he dared a quick peek, shaking his head and dropping back down the hole, letting out a sigh.

‘Not good John, they’re not playing it nice.’

‘Are you suggesting that we take off the velvet gloves?’

‘Yup.’ Drake checked the load of his lasgun while Byron pulled a flash grenade from his webbing. ‘We’ll need to do this quick and fast, that’s all. Get ready to throw that thing on my count.’

Byron checked the load on his own weapon one last time, content with the still full and unfired pack. At his current pacing maybe he’d be able to snap off a shot before the end of the century.

‘Right Kyle, let’s go.’

Taking a last look through the window Drake counted down with his hand, Byron pulling the pin on five and letting go of the handle on three. As Drake reached one Byron lobbed it in. Just before he covered his ears and looked away he could hear the grenade bounce across the room.

A split second later a loud bang resounded through the small room and a blinding light burned for a second. Shouts and screams came from within, a single gunshot was heard.

Drake got to his feet and quickly snapped off two shots, dropping both men. Carefully he checked both bodies before turning towards the pilot.

‘Are you okay? Calm down, we’re here to help. Hey!’ Drake grabbed hold of the female crewmember by both shoulders, trying to calm her down.

‘This guy’s dead.’ Byron remarked as he felt the neck of the other crewmember, belatedly noticing the entry wound at the side of his head. ‘Kyle, embrace her or something, she can’t see or hear anything at the moment.’

‘A hug? That doesn’t make any sense John.’ He did it anyway. ‘Calm down missy, we’re here to help. Hey, it actually works. The stuff you know sometimes. Once she can see and hear a bit again we’ll have to move out. No telling how long it will take before those guys are missed.’

He carefully let go and moved to the window, checking the street. ‘Can’t stay here too long, no telling what might happen.’

Byron moved to the pilot, who had calmed down a bit and was furiously blinking her eyes. He waved his hand in front of her face and after a few passes she swatted it aside.

‘Where’s Pierce?’ She half shouted the question, probably still hearing the ringing in her ears.

It took Byron a moment to put the name to a face. He shook his head.

‘He’s..? Oh Emperor.’ The pilot let out a sob, quickly wiping her eyes. ‘Poor bastard, he was such a nice guy. Useless under pressure but still a nice guy.’

Byron moved over and put a comforting arm around the pilot, patting her on the shoulder. ‘We’ll have time to remember him, but not now. We need to move and fast, before their friends come looking around.’

Ungainly the pilot got to her feet, steadying herself on Byron for a moment before nodding and letting go.

‘Let’s run like hell boys.’

Drake moved at point, followed by Byron and the pilot, who had armed herself with her laspistol which she liberated from her erstwhile captors. While Drake and the pilot were cautious Byron somehow felt that it was safe. He wasn’t sure of course, but somehow he could sense that the end of the operation was at hand. After half an hour of careful navigating they reached one of the ad-hoc command centres set up by the Elysians. Familiar faces manned the windows and waved them in.

‘All in a day’s work I guess,’ Byron remarked to no one in particular as he pulled off his helmet and reached for his knife. He wanted to do this for a long time now, ever since he had heard about it as a recruit. Marking up was part of being an Elysian. He made a tiny scratch onto the left side of his helmet, admiring his work for a moment. He earned his first mark, even though he didn’t fire a single shot yet. Somehow the whole operation felt pointless though. Why undertake such a costly operation? While the enemy was cut off and hunted down for the most part, it was at a high cost in lives and equipment.

‘First timer?’ The pilot asked, undoing her own flight helmet. Short blond hair flowed from it.

‘Yeah, first time for everything. At least I’m no longer a combat virgin.’ Byron admired his first mark with a grin now, hopefully more where that came from. Surviving first contact was quite an achievement, but then again most men died during that crucial phase; the drop. You were defenceless during that part, nothing you could do but pray and hope.

The pilot sighed and chuckled. ‘Same here I guess, first flight and already gunned down. Crap, this probably isn’t going to look good on my service record. I’ll be lucky if I can do ground duties from now on.’ Byron could see that she was down struck, she must be one of those people who live for the flight and the fight. It could also be that the death of her fellow crew member finally fully hit home.

Byron gave her another comforting pat on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you did good out there today. Provided us with good close air cover. Too bad not a lot of us made it through though, otherwise they’d personally thank you.’ Byron dumped his helmet on the ground and sat down on a piece of rubble, idly turning the knife in his hand. He noticed that it still had blood on it from the snetry he stabbed.

‘Well, more of this to come, no doubt about it. I just hope my future flights will be better.’ She held out her flight helmet, offering it to Byron. ‘Could you mark one up for me as well?’

He took the heavy flight helmet and make a small scratch onto the left side, handing it back. The scratch was an unofficial mark of respect between Elysians. The more drops you survive the more senior you are. Survive eight drops and you’re a veteran. It wasn’t the scars or the mileage, it was all about those tiny marks.

Slowly others filed in, sitting down and settling in the ruined building. One after another they all did the same thing; taking off their helmet and making a scratch on the side. A limping Striker also did so when he was set down by fellow squad members, making a long scratch on his scarred and pitted helmet, putting it down beside him. He beckoned Byron and Drake over.

‘You two did good today, you did the platoon proud.’ He raised his voice. ‘All of you first timers did good today. Be proud my boys!’ He let out a sigh as he looked at his leg. ‘But my number has come up, I won’t be jumping anymore. Not with this busted leg and my age.’ He clapped Byron on the shoulder. ‘Once we get back I’ll make sure you get a promotion and take command of what’s left of the squad. You’re a good one for them, they’ll listen to you.’

Striker sighed with satisfaction and reached for his canteen, noticing that a stray round put a hole in the side. Byron shook his head in wry amusement and offered Striker his canteen, still full.

‘Not long now.’ Striker mused as he drank. ‘Relief should be here any moment now.’ The way he said it was supposed to make it sound like things were over. But the sound of his voice said otherwise.

Help was on the way, right?

It was, only help wouldn’t come that fast. As the first reports of the enemy counter attack trickled in the Elysians wearily got to their feet and kitted up again, ready to defend what they had taken the hard way.